


Never Alone

by TarnishedArmour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A/U, Can't remember if DH and HBP were out when I wrote it - but definitely A/U if they were, F/M, GE Fortnight Foray challenge fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarnishedArmour/pseuds/TarnishedArmour
Summary: PROMPT: "How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget." ~ The EaglesHermione never told anyone what he had done to her.  Now all she wants to do is forget.  And remember.  And forget...
Relationships: Hermione/?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**The music pulsed and her body moved in the summer heat. She was searching for something she could never find for herself. Forgiveness. Freedom. Memories. Forgetfulness.**

**Oh, how she wanted to forget...**

_Hermione lay back on her bed, her parents gone for the next year on an extended tour of Europe for the NHS Dentistry section. The Drs. Granger would be visiting other clinics and dentists throughout Europe to find the latest and best methods and write an extensive report of the feasibility of including those practices in the NHS as standard. Some, she was certain, would be sufficiently good and inexpensive to replace some of the methods they had complained about – and she really couldn't say what because she and her parents hadn't really discussed the practice the past two years._

_If she were honest with herself, and she usually was, Hermione would recognize the serendipitous nature of this tour. She wanted to resent the National Health Service for destroying her Christmas holidays with her parents, but she couldn't help but be happy they were gone. Sixth year had shown the war was heating up, and she was worried about their safety._

_Her plan, the one she would tell everyone about because she hadn't had to use it, had been to Obliviate them, give them false lives and identities, and send them off to Australia until the war was over._

_She relaxed into her bed and smiled. A Christmas without friends or parents to bother the hell out of her, pull her out of the research she was doing for Harry and the Order, and otherwise get in her way. This just might be the best Christmas of her life. Shortly after that thought had wormed its way past her mental defenses – she employed them even against herself and her less-charitable nature – she drifted off into a very happy, very peaceful sleep._

_Hermione's hips twitched in her sleep. Her back arched and she groaned softly as she slowly came awake. Of all the times for those old dreams about Professor Lupin to surface, this was one of the worst. Or perhaps the best. There were no roommates to bother if she decided to let herself indulge in a bit of harmless lust, no one that she would have to worry about Obliviating or casting privacy charms on her bed. This was the perfect time to indulge in a little fantasy about whether or not a werewolf's tongue in his human form was as long and flexible as it was in his lupine form. She moved her left hand – she knew Lupin was a Lefty and liked the authenticity of it – down to her –_

_Wait._

_Brown eyes snapped open in panic. Her hand wasn't moving. She tugged and pulled both of her hands, but she was still stretched out on her back, knees high and wide apart, hands somehow pinned to the mattress. She couldn't move. SHE COULDN'T MOVE!_

_“So you're awake, little witch,” growled the voice from between her legs. “Good.” A rough, wet tongue slid over her folds once and Hermione drew in a breath – “Ah-ah-ah, none of that,” the voice warned. “No screaming. I know where your parents are, little witch, and it wouldn't be the matter of a moment to find them.”_

_Hermione felt her eyes grow wide as she stared blindly into the dark at the darker shadow between her legs. She squeaked in shock as that tongue slid over her folds again._

_“Let's get acquainted, little witch...” he murmured before burying his face and all of his attention between her legs._

_Hermione's usually fine, organized, quick mind shorted out as she felt the touch of another for the first time...and hated it. And loved it. She moaned for him, whoever he was. She came for him. She had thought she had given herself an orgasm before, but apparently she hadn't._

_She came for him, moaned for him, writhed for him, and did not once ask his name._

_“What a sweet little witch,” the voice between her legs crooned. “Now, little witch, do you believe I want to harm you?”_

_“N-n-no,” Hermione managed between ragged breaths._

_He kissed her quivering flesh and she moaned as her hips jerked up to meet him. A soft laugh. That wicked tongue laving her again, finding all of her secrets and making them his._ His _little place to the left of her clit, the one he tongued so lightly and rhythmically, making her draw sharp, quick breaths as her eyes rolled back._ His _spot right under her hood, the one the point of his tongue burrowed into, making her shake and moan._ His _delicate entrance, the one he rimmed so delicately and teased without entering._ His _little nerve bundle, the one that he sucked so gently as she cried out with pleasure, writhing under his mouth._ **His.** _He made that sweet space between her legs_ his, _and she had no idea how he was able to do that._

_Hermione whimpered as he again turned his attention to driving her mad with pleasure. She screamed for him again, coming hard against his tongue, aftershocks ripping through her as he laved her clean._

_“Do you believe I will help you, little witch, as you fight the Dark Lord?”_

_“Y-y'ssss,” she barely managed to hiss._

_“What a perfect little witch. Do you know what perfect little witches get?”_

_“N-no,” she panted._

_“Perfect little witches get rewards.”_

_Again and again he questioned her, she answered, barely coherent, and he brought her to screaming, writhing orgasm with only his mouth._

_“Do you believe I will come to you again, little witch?” he whispered as she barely hung on to her consciousness._

_“Yyyeh,” she managed, a tiny nod accompanying what could be an affirmative sound._

_“What a smart little witch. What do smart little witches get?”_

_She whimpered. “Rewards.” The word hadn't left her lips fully when he sucked hard on her sore little clit, making her scream and scream as orgasm racked her body over and over again._

_This time, her reward left her unconscious._

_When she woke, he was gone. A bottle of healing potion was on her nightstand with a note:_

__Take one dram, no more. I will come to you again in the night, little witch. Be ready.

_She had stared at that note for a long time, her mind whiting out as her body trembled in anticipation._

_Unexpected nocturnal visitor or not, Hermione Jane Granger was no fool. She carefully measured one dram into the cap of the potion bottle, knocked it back, and waited for it to kick in. She didn't try to stand, knowing it would be too painful to do so. She didn't try to deny what had happened, but neither did she allow herself to dwell on it._

_The Order of the Phoenix had a new ally, and said ally had approached her in a most convincing manner._

_She would research and work, as she had planned, and let him come to her when he could._

_Next time, though, she would be asking the questions..._

__**The beat changed, the song changed, but her mind remained the same. She wanted to forget. She wanted to forget. She did.**

**She did.**

_Hermione woke to the feel of a warm, wet tongue tracing her newly-healed folds. He was back already, the next night. She moaned softly as she woke, her legs spreading wider for him as he tasted her and teased her._

_“Ask, little witch,” he whispered against her._

_“Why do you want to help us fight Voldemort?”_

_A sharp nip at her thigh scolded her for using his name. She squeaked in surprise and felt her back curl and her legs hitch higher. She would not want that sharp little bite to be directed at her delicate girly bits, so she whispered quickly, “Sorry.”_

_“Mm,” he captured her little clit between his lips and hummed low and loud. She choked and moaned for him. “Forgiven.” He licked and tormented her for a long moment. “I want to be free. I never wanted to serve him, and I cannot get free without letting those I care about get hurt. I am trapped. I want to get out of the trap.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“Smart little witch,” he said, focusing for long minutes on her reward. Hermione was panting and bucking under his tongue, letting him control the pace of her reward – she had learned the night before not to try to rush him – and relaxing into the pleasure of being pleasured._

_“Next question, little witch,” he whispered._

_“Why – ” her throat was dry. She swallowed and tried again. “Why did you come to me like this? Why not go to Dumbledore or someone else?”_

_“You are a generous witch, not like others. Even Dumbledore wouldn't listen to me because he believes I am evil. I'm not. The ones I protect are not. But you, you are a kind, even to creatures that others overlook. You work hard for your wizard friends, helping them. You help other students in other Houses, even Slytherin. You forgive slights and hurts, and you do not let prejudices affect your decisions if you can prevent it.” He turned his attention back to that sweet little spot to the left of her clit, then licked her several times from entrance to apex, making her whimper. “I trust you, little witch, because I cannot trust others.”_

_“Th-thank you,” she managed between panted breaths. “Oh, thank you.”_

_“Gracious little witch...who will get...”_

_“A reward,” she moaned._

_A low chuckle made her shiver in anticipation. He burrowed the tip of his tongue under the hood of her clit and waited for her to start moaning loud and long before flickering his tongue quickly over the exposed little bundle of nerves._

_Hermione screamed as her reward whipped through her, making her writhe against the sticking charms he had cast on her wrists and back. She arched and moved as her body spasmed, but the charms held firm._

_That wicked tongue didn't stop, though it did gentle and carefully clean the evidence of her pleasure from her body._

_Hermione floated down gently from her place among the stars and relaxed as he took care of her._

_“What kind of information can you give us?” she asked after several long minutes of simply feeling his tongue against her skin, not pushing her to pleasure, but comforting and relaxing her._

_“I know where certain items are stored and the counters for the curses that protect them. I can lead you to them.”_

_“For a price?” she asked._

_“Mm.” He was silent for a long minute, unmoving. His tongue left her while he thought and she felt bereft. “No. No price. Not to destroy him.”_

_“So the price will come later,” she said._

_“Such a bright little witch,” he murmured, laughing softly. “Yes, the price will come later, but the reward for smart little witches will be you...coming...” he applied his lips just so and sucked hard and fast on her clit, she arched hard and screamed as the pleasure slammed into her again, “...coming...” he sucked again and again, until she was crying for relief, “...NOW.”_

_And she did. Hard, fast, wild – she came on his tongue, screaming loud and long._

_He didn't let up._

_She didn't stop screaming._

_He didn't let up._

_She didn't remember anything after three minutes of being held in orgasm._

_When she awoke, she saw a new note next to her healing potion. Her clit was throbbing with her heartbeat, begging her for mercy._

_Hands shaking, body still weak from his nocturnal onslaught, she measured the dram of potion out and drank it quickly, sighing in relief as her clit twitched twice in thanks and fell mercifully, numbly, from her perception._

_Hands steady now, she reached for the note._

Item number one: a cup. Ugly gold thing. Godric's Hollow, third house down from the ruined home of the Potters. Since he is preoccupied with tormenting the Potter boy from afar, and some other grand scheme which will probably fail fantastically, you should be able to get it today without any problems. Disillusion yourself with the wand I put in your shoe. The little frog pillow is your Portkey to the house. Activation word is “Hollow.” Do not be seen. Eyes are everywhere, but I shall endeavour they be focussed well away from the Hollow today. __

_Instructions on how to get past the curses and protections followed, and Hermione studied them for a long time. Finally knowing what she had to do, she got up, managed to walk to the bathroom on steady legs. Her knees were a little bit wobbly at first, but she was mobile, and that was all that mattered. A shower, some breakfast – was it really only nine-o'-clock? – and she was as ready as she could be. Except for clothing. Right. Knickerless in only a large t-shirt was not really appropriate for picking up...whatever she was going to get. Right. Ugly gold cup._

_As she dressed, Hermione let her mind wander where it would. It didn't, as one would expect, drift back to the night of mind-blowing pleasure and bondage and forced orgasms. Instead, it reviewed the information she had been given about her first mission._

***  
Hermione Granger's mind did not function like most teenaged girls' minds, or most over-twenty adult witch minds, either. She did not spend vast amounts of time emoting over circumstances, boys, tasks, or her appearance. Most of the time, she ignored emotion, unless she was under severe stress, like third year when she slapped Malfoy and cried so easily. Let Ron shag half of Hogwarts – and she didn't care which half, either – and let Harry do something utterly daft that she'd have to fix for him later. Let Seamus and Parvati snog one another brainless (not that Parvati had a brain most of the time, but she did at least have a functioning brain stem, hence the breathing and heartbeat and her continued existence as classified as “living”), let the first years be experiments for Fred and George – she didn't care about it the way everyone thought she did. Rather, she didn't care for the reasons they though she did. 

Ron shagging half of Hogwarts was _not_ good idea because apparently his family was quite fertile on both sides of the family tree. A pregnant girlfriend or one-night-shag was not something he could handle without making her life messy. Therefore, she tried to keep Ron from dating and/or shagging and put on the jealous act. So far, it was working and the closest Ron had come to shagging had been Lavender in a broom closet, and Lavender was very, very good with her contraceptive measures. She was even better with contraception when she wasn't getting laid, but only licked, sucked, fingered, and snogged.

Harry doing something daft was unavoidable, but at least she could keep track of his tendencies for this particular daft adventure this year – he was fixated on Malfoy – and nag him about it so that a) he thought she cared (she did love him, but he could be a complete ninny at times) and b) she could later let him tell her she had told him so without having to say it herself. That pattern had held up quite well over the past five-and-a-half years, so she was more than happy to _keep_ that pattern. It didn't interfere with her research and study schedules. However, if she could, on the off chance _prevent_ said daft scheme from occurring, she would be one up on the whole business and, with that particular stress missing, perhaps even be able to entertain more than one daft scheme the next year.

Seamus and Parvati snogging she had no problems with, as long as they didn't make a mess on the common room couches, what with the drool and other bodily fluids. They were quite fun to watch, usually, and oddly proper about it all, so the lower years got an education without any stupidity on their own parts, namely trying to do what the sixth year couple was doing. 

Fred and George were bloody brilliant, and she was more than willing to admit that, if only to herself. No, the objections she had to their experiments on the younger years was _not_ that it was wrong or unethical, but that they needed to make sure the kids weren't actually going to get hurt or that they didn't have a bad reaction to any of the ingredients. Sensible precautions ensured a healthy, willing, continuous set of guinea pigs for the boys, and so she shrieked at them whenever they went against her carefully plotted set of criteria for test subjects. They'd figure it out. Eventually.

Hermione's head always, always, always overruled her heart and her emotive centers, and, usually, her endocrine glands, including adrenaline. She was a sensible witch to the point that she defined the category labeled Sensible Witches. True, she had been something like sexually assaulted, bound, and tormented by orgasm, but she was in possession of two things that overruled any silly emotional reaction to that situation (well, any negative emotional reaction, since she was rather enjoying the mystery ally's attentions quite a lot): She had an ally/mentor about which the Order (meaning the nosy and meddling Dumbledore) did not know, and her ally had access to particular information that she knew was vital to the cause, even if certain people (everyone who still looked at the three veterans Harry, Ron, and herself as children) didn't want her to realize it. Being a Sensible Witch, Hermione chose to act on the information given and let the whole oral-sex-'til-she-passes-out part wait for consideration. It could wait indefinitely. She was that good at separating emotion from thought and action.

***  
_Information in hand, mission known, and girly bits mercifully numbed for the rest of the day, Hermione Granger got dressed in sensible clothing, put on her sensible hiking boots, picked up her sensible wand, sensibly picked up her new apparently unTraceable wand, sensibly used it to Disillusion herself, and took hold of the Portkey firmly in one hand. As soon as she whispered the activation word, a magical fishhook the size that could have been used on Moby Dick gouged its way through her navel and she was reeled through space in a nauseating, gut-wrenching ride._

_From there, it was a matter of simplicity itself to keep from vomiting, use the counters, and get home without anyone the wiser._

**Another change of rhythm, this time a wicked, pulsing Latin number that felt like sex. A hard, male body pressed up against hers, the hard length in his tight jeans making her remember. She wanted to remember. She did.**

**Didn't she?**

_Another night, another visit. Another night, another visit. On and on, over and over, he had come to her, pleasured her into passing out, and left her with information and clues about what to find and where to go. Every question she answered, every question she asked, she was rewarded. Every successful mission, she was rewarded. Everything she did, she was rewarded._

_She had forgotten what it felt like to sleep through the night without coming against his tongue, sometimes with long, torturous teases between orgasm, sometimes with orgasms forced out of her, one after another after another, sometimes with him sucking so hard and long on her clit that she was held in ecstasy for minutes at a time until her body simply could not take the pleasure any longer._

_“Who are you?” she breathed on the tenth night after he woke her with his particular attentions._

_He paused. Kissed her thigh. Stayed silent and still for a long time._

_“Little witch,” he murmured, his voice a sad rumble from the shadows, “if you knew who was giving you this help, if you knew who was giving you these rewards, you would scream in terror.”_

_“No,” she denied, whispering into the shadows. “No. You mean me no harm. You are helping me, the Order – “_

_“If you knew, you would scream in terror.”_

_“No...” She didn't want to believe him. She wanted him to know he was safe with her. That she felt safe with him._

_“Shh, little witch,” he said, kissing her thigh again. “Take what I can give you. Set me free.”_

_He bent his head to his self-appointed task, and, this time, as she moaned in pleasure, she felt her heart breaking._

_She was starting to love her shadow-lover...her mystery lover._

_As she moaned for him, she knew she could never tell him...never let him know...never tell anyone. Ever._

_And her heart screamed in denial._

_She screamed in pleasure._

_Once again, she was left boneless and sated, sore and unconscious, from his attentions. Once again, he left a note: the snake was the only one left. The only one she hadn't collected and stored oh-so-carefully. The only one she didn't have to destroy on her own._

__Destroy these. Use the Gryffindor sword. It was used to kill the basilisk under the school, so it will work. If you can't get the sword, basilisk venom will work. Shove the fang through the objects and wait. Make sure you're outside a protective ward-ring first. Use magic to shove the fang through. Repeat for each object. Do not try to destroy more than one at a time.

He will never know. He can't feel what's in these anymore. He is too evil and too broken.

Free me, little witch.

Please.

_Hermione had closed her eyes and begged Fawkes to hear her. The phoenix had. She let the phoenix perch on the kitchen chair and told him everything. She spoke of her mystery lover helping her. She spoke of her quests to collect the evil objects. She spoke of the Sword of Gryffindor or the basilisk fangs. She asked the phoenix for his help. He looked at her, nodded once, and disappeared in a flash of fire._

_He returned with the Sword of Gryffindor in one talon, a basilisk fang in the other._

_“You think I'll need both, then?” she asked._

_Fawkes blinked at her, dropped the items lightly on her kitchen table, and waited._

_“You want to watch, then? Make sure I don't screw it up?”_

_This time, Fawkes nodded at her. She smiled back at the mythical bird – no, not mythical, magical._

_“Thanks, Fawkes,” she whispered, extending her hand and letting him push his head under it for a good scratch. The bird sighed and she smiled._

_“Think we can do them all today?” she asked as she pet him._

_Fawkes tipped his head, looked at her, bobbed his head once, and then butted at her hand imperiously._

_“But first more pets.” The bird sighed again and Hermione drew strength and comfort from her contact with this surprisingly perceptive magical bird._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hermione wrapped her arms around whatever male had danced over to her and swayed with him, trying to let the heat of the night, of the music, of the dance take her far, far away from here. Take her memories away. Take her to him.**

**No. Not to him.**

**Yes. To him.**

**She didn't know what she wanted, only that she did, and so she danced...**

_The ritual circle hissed and popped with the discharge of magic as the basilisk fang slammed through the ugly gold cup. A dark mist rose, shuddered, then seemed to turn inward on itself and tear itself apart._

_Hermione sighed. First one was done. Now for the second, the diadem. It was beautiful and she wanted to keep it, to know...but she had to destroy it._

_Hardening her heart, she floated the object into the ritual circle. It settled neatly beside the remnants of the cup, the diamonds winking saucily at her as the golden cup slowly turned into a twisted hunk of metal. She took a breath – this one was going to be the hardest – and lifted the basilisk fang into the air with a flick of her wand. A quick slash downward and the fang slammed through the golden filigree and magical discharge began to crackle through the ritual circle._

_Two down. Two more to go..._

_Two hours later, Hermione slowly dismantled the ritual circle, petted Fawkes, and asked him to take the mangled hunks of what had once been evil objects belonging to an evil man to Dumbledore._

_“Don't tell him how or why or where. Just drop these off to him and, if he gets upset or starts to ask questions, sing to him. Let him know it's alright. Let him know...he has an ally that can't go to him.” She petted Fawkes for a long time before the phoenix consented to carry the load in a simple piece of fabric from her mother’s sewing basket._

_She never saw Fawkes leave. She was petting him, he was singing softly to her, and she fell asleep, only dreaming about the beautiful familiar disappearing in a flash of fire._

_She woke as she was carried up to her bed late that night, but she did not stay awake. The magic for the ritual circle had been draining, the control needed for destroying the Horcruxes exhausting._

_Hermione Granger fell asleep that night feeling safe and warm in her mystery ally-lover's arms. She woke the next morning alone, but did not feel bereft. Instead, she smiled at the note left for her._

Well done, little witch. I must be away for the next few days. Think about what reward you would like for helping to weaken the evil bastard that threatens us all. 

I know part of your reward, sweet witch, and so do you.

What else do you desire?

_What else did she desire, indeed. What did she desire, other than the reward she had become so accustomed to receiving?_

_Did she want to know his name? She wasn't sure about that. He said she would be terrified, but she didn't believe it. Not anymore. Then again, he was supposed to be on the wrong side of the war, so she may well be frightened of him if she dared to ask and he deigned to answer._

_Did she want more of him than he had given her so far? She had felt his tongue, knew it could steal her breath, her secrets, even her thoughts from her head. What could he do with his fingers? His hands? What could he do to her if he moved from his place between her thighs, perhaps to her breasts? What could he do with her mouth with his own? Would she be able to keep him firmly in his place as her mystery lover/ally, the lover shrouded in darkness if he_ did _touch her, taste other places on her skin, kiss her?_

_Did she want to lose her virginity to him? He was so powerful a lover with only his tongue, so addictive without any penetration of her body – not with fingers or tongue had he entered her – that she wondered what it would be like to let him take all of her. Did she dare? Did she dare risk so much of herself when she knew nothing of him?_

_Did she want to hold him? Every time he came to her, every time he tasted her and teased her and rewarded her, she was bound by his sticking charms. She wondered what his hair would feel like under her fingers, if he would let her touch his skin, feel his body next to hers – if they did nothing except hold one another – that would be enough. He was large with powerful shoulders, she knew that from trying to close her legs when she was being overwhelmed by pleasure. She failed every time. All he had to do was move one shoulder to press lightly against her thigh and she was trapped._

_What did she want as a reward? What could she ask for that would please him and let him know she wasn't going to betray him? Was there anything?_

_Or was that the test?_

_Did he want to see if she would ask for something he could not give in order to judge her trustworthiness?_

_Was he that twisty and sneaky?_

_He was conniving enough to use a seventeen-year-old girl to retrieve and destroy truly horrible objects. He was insidiously intelligent enough use sex and sexuality against her – not that she minded in the least. As a first lover, such as he was, he was teaching her more about her body and her needs than she could ever have hoped._

_Yes, he was twisty and sneaky enough to make this a test for her. Even so, she had better have a back-up plan, a request, just in case he was serious about letting her choose her reward._

_When it came to dark lovers, one never could tell, could one?_

**Hermione flexed her legs and ground her hips into her partner's erection. He held her hips and ground back, their dance becoming less of a dance and more of a standing attempt at clothed sex.**

**It didn't matter. She couldn't forget. Wouldn't forget, no matter how hard she tried. Or didn't try.**

**She would always remember...**

_She woke with him between her thighs, warm breath teasing her newly-bared skin._

_“Wicked little witch, how you please me,” he growled, dipping his head to show his intense appreciation for her boldness. “Revealing you pretty pink secrets to me.” He kissed and laved and sucked and teased. “Do you know what wicked little witches get?”_

_“Rewards?” she asked, uncertain._

_“No, little witch. Wicked little witches get teased and tormented. Good, clever, smart, sweet witches get rewards. Wicked witches are treated wickedly.” With that, he turned his attention to driving her mad, making her beg and plead and cry for release._

_“Now, little witch, are you wicked?”_

_“Yes!” she cried out, willing to tell him anything for relief, for release._

_He teased her for several more minutes._

_“Little witch, is there anything you want to tell me?”_

_“I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was wicked! I won't be wicked anymore! Please, please, please let me come! Please! I'll be a good witch!”_

_“What a good little witch, what a smart little witch, to know what she has done wrong.” He teased her for a long time then._

_“Please!!! I said I was sorry!” She sobbed now, thinking she would go made from want._

_“Little witch,” he whispered between licks, “you misunderstand. Wickedness is part of you now, and no matter what you say, you will always be a little bit wicked.” She felt him smile against her. “But do you want to know a secret?”_

_“Yes,” she whimpered as she cried, knowing that he was going to take her further than ever before tonight. “If you want to tell it.”_

_“Clever little witch.” He teased her for a minute._

_“The secret is,” he kissed her clit over and over between words, “as much as I like smart (lick), sweet (suck), good (lick-lick), intelligent (suck-lick), clever (nibble), little witches, I adore wicked ones.” With that he latched on to her clit and sucked and hummed until she was unable to scream through her releases. He didn't stop until she had lost consciousness._

_Hermione woke slowly to the feeling of a tongue sliding over her skin._

_“So you're awake now, little witch,” he whispered as she looked around. It was still dark. Still night. He was still here. He was...cleaning her, licking up everything that she had expelled in her longest, hardest orgasm yet. “Have you decided on your reward?”_

_“Mmmm,” she managed, mind slowly coming back to something resembling coherence. “I think so.”_

_“Tell me.”_

_“I think that a reward shouldn't be requested,” she whispered, strangely shy now that the moment was upon her. “I think the reward should be your choice.”_

_She felt him shift and his arms wrap around her hips as he pushed his face into her abdomen. His shoulders shook, and she was worried he was laughing at her – until she felt the dampness on her belly. Tears. He was crying. She tried to move her hands, but they were still stuck in place._

_“Oh, little witch, you are truly perfect. I would keep you forever, if I could.” She felt and heard the sniff against her skin. “You will have a lover, a husband, one day. Will you let him take you like this, bound and splayed open for his pleasure, for your pleasure?”_

_“I – I don't know,” she replied honestly._

_She felt his stare, even though she couldn't see him clearly._

_“Let him, little witch. Give him the right to your pleasure, the way you have given it to me.”_

_“Why can't you keep me?” she asked softly, gently._

_In answer, he lifted his head, lifted his wand, and whispered, “Lumos.”_

_Hermione's eyes grew wide as she stared into the amber eyes of the most feared werewolf in the United Kingdoms._

_“Fenrir Greyback,” she managed._

_He nodded. “Are you afraid, little witch?”_

_“I...should be,” she answered honestly. “I would be, if you hadn't come to me every night.” She didn't try to escape her charms, she didn't try to get away, she didn't scream or cry or beg for mercy._

_“I would keep you, but I would have to bite you,” he whispered. “You're too sweet, too utterly delicious to bite.” He kissed her abdomen, kissed down to her mons, her thighs, her secret pink, flushing red from his earlier ministrations and her own desire. “Find a wizard who will give you what you need, sweet little witch.”_

_He turned his attention to her and she cried out for him, her pleasure and her desire taking her higher and higher. Her eyes closed, and, at some time between her eyes closing and opening, he had doused the light charm._

_“Find a wizard who will keep you pinioned and splayed, wet and weeping, screaming and coming for him.” He teased her entrance with his tongue until she convulsed, never pushing into her weeping channel, never leaving it alone. “Find a wizard who will appreciate a sweet little virgin with the heart of a harlot. Find a wizard who can give you the world.” He kissed her entrance, her clit. He stood, showing her his powerful body for the first time. Even clothed, he was impressive. For her, he had been fully human. For the first time in decades, he had been fully human._

_He leaned down, kissed her softly. Touched her face._

_“Goodbye, little witch,” he whispered, and drifted away, like smoke in the dark._

_“Fenrir,” she whispered, feeling the charms pinning her in place fade away._

_She didn't try to follow him, didn't chase him, didn't call out to him._

_This was goodbye._

_Forever._

_Six months later, he would be dead in the Final Battle, waged in Hogsmeade at the end of the school year. She would find his body, perfect and strong and still, eyes wide open and staring at the sky, victim to the Killing Curse._

_He was free._

_She would weep, never able to tell anyone why._

**Hermione danced, not realizing her face was streaked with more than sweat. She danced to remember. She danced to forget. She danced for her knowledge, for her innocence; for love, unrequited.**

**From one partner to another, alone, with a group, it didn't matter.**

**As she danced, she realized a truth she had wanted to ignore: It is impossible to dance away from what lives inside.**

**She danced, anyway.**


End file.
